by S. J. West
I can’t help but smile because I know he will succeed in his quest. How can he not when a large part of my happiness stems from my loving him?
“Well,” I say, leaning in closer to him until our faces are inches apart. I notice his lips separate of their own accord as his breathing becomes noticeably more labored. “You’re doing a better than average job so far, Aiden.”
He doesn’t pull away as I lean in even closer and tentatively touch his lips with mine. As I press my lips more firmly against his, I realize that our relationship is slowly evolving into one where a kiss is expected instead of denied. My heart smiles at the thought, and I deepen the kiss tasting the sweetness of his mouth like sugar against my tongue.
Aiden moans softly as we kiss before pulling away. The action seems reluctant because he immediately leans in again and kisses my swollen lips lightly.
“You’re becoming really good at that,” he murmurs with a small smile as he seems to force himself to pull away and look at me.
“Really? Because I think I need more practice,” I tell him, matching his smile and hoping he takes the hint.
Aiden chuckles and his expression becomes a little shy. If the light was on in the room, I have a feeling I would catch him blushing.
“Practice does make perfect,” he agrees while nodding his head. “And I will forever be at your disposal for more lessons.”
The living room light suddenly comes on like an unwanted intruder, breaking the intimate moment. I hear my father clear his throat loudly and walk into the kitchen noisily starting to prepare a fresh pot of coffee.
I stand up and Aiden swings his legs off the couch to stand beside me. He leans over, grabs a gray V-neck t-shirt from the back of the couch, and slips it on over his head. I have to admit I’m a bit disappointed in the action, but know there isn’t anything I can do about it, especially with my dad banging around in the kitchen giving every indication that he wants me to know he’s close by.
Still holding my box with both hands, Aiden and I walk to the kitchen area together.
My dad is already dressed for the day in a pair of jeans and a white Henley. He’s just pouring the water in the coffee maker’s reservoir when we walk in.
The clock on the microwave display above the stove indicates it’s 3:30 in the morning.
“Your mom went to get Jess and Mason,” my dad tells me as Aiden and I sit next to one another on a pair of stools at the kitchen island’s bar.
I sit my box on the counter in front of me.
“So can you read what the symbols say?” Aiden asks me, looking at the intricate designs inlaid in silver around the sides of the box.
I nod. “Yes, my mom said I could read it because it’s a trait passed down from my grandfather. Why? Can’t you read it? It’s supposed to be angelic writing.”
“It’s archangel script,” he tells me. “We regular angels aren’t allowed to read it. What does it say?”
“It just says Caylin.”
“Just,” Aiden says with a small smile, like I’ve made the understatement of the century.
My mom phases in with Jess at her side.
“Where’s Mason?” I ask them.
“He went to get Malcolm,” Jess tells me, walking the few steps to me to give me a hug. “You doing ok, kiddo?”
I nod. “Yes, I’m fine.”
Jess leans away from me and sighs heavily. “I wish…I wish I could spare you from having to go through all this. If there was any way I could take your place, I would do it in a heartbeat and not think twice about it.”
“I’ll do what needs to be done, Jess,” I tell her, feeling a new sense of purpose for my life. “God will never give me anything I can’t handle. And I have all of you to help me. Our family is much stronger than the princes could ever think of becoming. We’ll win.”
“Sometimes winning comes at a high price,” Jess warns me, and I see a sadness enter her eyes.
I know Jess lost at least two people she cared about because of her fight against the princes to seal the Tear. One was Faison’s childhood sweetheart, John Austin. Apparently, he had been the first casualty of the battle. Then there was Isaiah, a Watcher I had only met once. He had been in charge of the Memphis Watcher headquarters at one time. Aiden took over Isaiah’s job after he was killed in an incident to save Chandler’s life. None of it was told to me in any great detail, but I knew both deaths had affected Jess deeply.
“I’m not scared, Jess,” I say, placing my hand on top of the box. “Especially now that we have something that’s meant to help us.”
Mason and Uncle Malcolm phase into the kitchen.
It’s obvious Mason just woke Uncle Malcolm up because his hair is still all mussed up like he didn’t even bother to run his finger through it before coming over. He’s only wearing a pair of black silk pajama bottoms and a matching robe hanging open at the front.
“What’s going on, dearest?” Uncle Malcolm asks my mom. “What’s happened?”
My mom goes on to explain about her dream and how it lead her to take me to Heaven to meet Utha Mae. I notice she doesn’t say anything about meeting Anna and make a mental note to ask her why later. For the story that needs to be told, Anna doesn’t play an important role. But, I wonder if my mom feels the same need to keep her out of the discussion just like I did when speaking with Aiden earlier. It’s almost like our meeting with her was something only meant for us.
Once my mother is through with her tale, all eyes turn to me and the box.
“Can we see the pieces?” Jess asks me.
I place both my hands on the box and lift the lid back on its hinges. Everyone stares at the oddly shaped pieces of silver. Some pieces look melded together and others look like they have edges as sharp as a knife’s. None of them are the same size, and it really just looks like a mishmash of metal to me.
“And how is that supposed to help us exactly?” Uncle Malcolm asks in exasperation. “What are we supposed to do, throw the pieces at Lucifer’s minions and hope they stick?”
Jess’ brow creases with thought after hearing Uncle Malcolm’s suggestion.
“Actually,” she says, “that might not be a bad idea.”
“I was joking, Jess.”
“I know,” she tells Uncle Malcolm. “But what if we could throw the silver at them and make it stick?”
“What are you thinking?” Mason asks her, crossing his arms over his chest as he waits for his wife to explain her thoughts.
“Can this silver be melted down?” Jess asks.
“It would take fire hotter than anything here on Earth,” my father answers.
“Well, what about Leah’s fire?” I ask. “It’s different, right?”
“It could be hot enough,” my dad says hesitantly. “It’s worth testing at any rate.”
“If we can melt this silver,” Jess says, “maybe we can coat Zack’s daggers with it and do exactly what Malcolm suggested, throw it at them.”
“But Zack’s blades don’t last very long,” Mason points out. “They disintegrate into sand after a few seconds unless they’re in a living target.”
“It won’t matter,” Uncle Malcolm says. “If we can encase the blades before they breakdown, then they should still remain in the shape of the dagger plus, hopefully, keep the traits of Zack’s power inside them.”
“But they’ll be dull blades, won’t they?” I ask.
“Not necessarily,” Mason says turning to Uncle Malcolm. “A skilled weapon smith with our strength might be able to sharpen the blades with a little muscle.”
“Brutus?” Uncle Malcolm asks, but I can tell the question is just a formality.
Mason nods.
“If anyone can help us, it’s him,” Uncle Malcolm agrees. “He might even know whether or not Leah’s fire will be hot enough to melt the silver before we involve her in things. I’ll go see what he’s doing.”
Uncle Malcolm phases.
“And where is Brutus exactly?” I ask, looking at Uncle Malc
olm’s phase trail but only seeing sand and ocean.
“Greece,” Aiden answers. “After the Tear was closed, he bought an island out in the Mediterranean so he could make his weapons without being bothered by too many people. His swords are highly sought after commodities by sword collectors.”
“He’s that good?” I ask.
“The best,” Aiden answers unequivocally. “If anyone can help us with making the daggers, it’s him.”
Only a few minutes pass before Uncle Malcolm phases back with Brutus in tow.
I guess I shouldn’t be surprised by his appearance. I’m sure Uncle Malcolm didn’t give him any time to get ready to come see us. The first thing I notice about Brutus are his bulging muscles. His biceps look as thick as logs. And his torso looks like it was chiseled out of granite. He’s shirtless and a bit sooty and sweaty. I immediately assume he was probably in the middle of working on a project when Uncle Malcolm found him and drug him back here. He has long wavy brown hair pulled back into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. His muscles are astonishingly well defined, but it’s his eyes that capture my attention the most. They are ice blue and piercing as he looks at me. I almost feel like he’s able to see into my soul.
“Brutus,” Uncle Malcolm says, “I want you to meet my niece, Caylin.”
Brutus wipes his right hand on the thigh of his tight fitting jeans before walking up to me and holding it out.
I shake his hand with a firm grip so he knows he doesn’t have to treat me gently like an ordinary human.
Brutus seems surprised by my strength but doesn’t comment on it, just smiles at me.
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Caylin,” he tells me. His voice is deep like one of those voices you hear in a movie trailer or one a boxing ring announcer would have.
“Thank you for coming, Brutus.”
Brutus looks into the box still sitting open in front of me.
“Do you mind if I examine the pieces?” He asks me.
I shake my head. “No, that’s what you’re here for. We need your help.”
Brutus grins at me and then turns his full attention to the remnants of the archangel crowns inside the box. He picks one of the pieces up and examines it.
“Hmm,” I hear Jess say as if disappointed.
I look over at her as she stands beside my mom on the other side of the kitchen island.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“When we first found the crowns,” Jess tells me, “only the person who the crown belonged with was able to lift them. Since Brutus can handle the pieces, it makes me wonder if they still hold the same powers that they once did.”
“Well, I don’t know anything about that,” Brutus says, holding up one of the pieces with two fingers and examining it in the light. “But, I can tell you I think Uriel’s vessel should be able to melt them.”
“What about the rest of our plan?” Uncle Malcolm asks.
Brutus gently puts the crown piece back into the box with great reverence and turns to face Uncle Malcolm.
“If you’re asking me if I think it will work, I have no way of knowing. It’s not exactly as if this sort of thing has ever been done before. But, if Zadkiel’s vessel’s daggers can survive being dropped into molten silver, I don’t think I’ll have a problem making them as sharp as you need them. I should be able to mold them into proper weapons.”
“And the daggers will put the princes back into stasis like the crowns did?” My mom asks.
“Theoretically they should, I think,” Jess says, not sounding completely sure. “But for how long, I don't know. I have a feeling a lot of the crowns’ powers were drained when the Tear was sealed. I don’t think they have enough juice to keep them in stasis forever.”
“Well, we already know they won’t stay like that forever, don’t we?” I ask. “We saw my descendant in the future fighting one of the princes.”
“True,” Jess admits. “We at least know Amon comes out during that time.”
“I think we should just trust that God wouldn’t give us something useless,” I say. “They won’t be freed until the time comes for them to be.”
“Speaking of the future,” Uncle Malcolm says to Mason, “I’ve already spoken with Andre about taking over when it’s my time to step down. He’s willing to stay for as long as it takes to make sure Lilly and Caylin’s descendent does whatever it is she’s born to do.”
I look away from Uncle Malcolm because I feel sure he'll know something is wrong if he looks into my eyes. It’s not my job to tell him the truth about his future, only my mom can do that. And I have a feeling she won’t tell him anything for a very long time.
“And after we place them in stasis,” Aiden says, “what do we do with them?”
“Let me worry about that,” Mason says. “Though, I might need your help, Caylin.”
“My help?”
Mason winks at me. “We’ll talk about it after the reception when we meet with the other Watchers. Don’t worry about it right now.”
“Oh God,” Jess says, slapping the palm of her right hand against her forehead, “I completely forgot about the wedding. On top of everything else, we have to deal with that.”
Mason walks over to Jess and takes one of her hands into his. She looks over at him.
“When have we ever been given something we can’t handle?” He asks her quietly. “This won’t be any different. We’ve been given the pieces we need to succeed. Now all we have to do is put them into play.”
“I know,” Jess tells him. “And you know I don’t think this will be the last thing we’ll have to do.”
Mason gives her a tight-lipped grin and nods as if he’s already accepted their fate.
I have no clue what they’re talking about, but I get the feeling Jess thinks God has at least one more mission for her after she helps me.
“Do we know where the other princes are right now?” My dad asks.
“We have people assigned to monitor their movements,” Uncle Malcolm says.
“Who was supposed to be watching Levi?” I ask. “Because they didn’t follow him very well.”
“That was Jered,” Mason tells me. “He said Levi gave him the slip that day, and he wasn’t able to locate him again.”
I see Uncle Malcolm raise a dubious eyebrow at the news.
“And was Jered telling you the truth?” Uncle Malcolm asks.
Mason nods. “Yes, I would have known if he was lying.”
“I can understand how that happened,” Aiden says in this Jered’s defense. “Baal almost did the same thing to me the day he attacked Caylin. I’m just lucky I found his phase trail in time to follow it.”
“I get the feeling you don’t trust this Jered,” I say to Uncle Malcolm. “Why?”
“Because he used to be a lackey for Lucifer,” Uncle Malcolm grumbles. “Anyone idiot enough to follow the biggest fool of all time isn’t to be trusted in my opinion.”
“Malcolm,” Mason says, a warning in his voice, “we’ve discussed this. Jered deserves a chance at redemption just like anyone else who wants it.”
“I know you think he does,” Uncle Malcolm says, “but I haven’t quite joined that bandwagon of thinking yet.”
“I guess I’m a little confused,” I confess. “Who is he exactly?”
“Right before Mason and I got married,” Jess tells me, “a group of Watchers working with Lucifer attacked us at Mama Lynn’s. After the Tear was sealed, we gave the ones we captured the chance to redeem themselves. The ones who didn’t pass Mason’s lie detector were….disposed of by Zack. Jered was the only one who truly seemed to want to change his ways and find forgiveness. As long as some people,” Jess says looking pointedly at Uncle Malcolm, “will give him a chance to prove himself.”
Uncle Malcolm shrugs. “I never said I wouldn’t give him a chance. But it’s going to take more than what he’s done so far to prove to me that he’s really changed.”
“He’s trying, Malcolm,” Mason says. “We need
to give him our support not our ridicule.”
Everyone falls quiet, and I feel like we’re all ignoring the giant pink elephant in the room.
“So, do any of you know what the princes stole from Heaven?” I ask.
No one says anything, and I notice Uncle Malcolm and Mason aren’t meeting my eyes. I know that can’t be a good sign.
“No idea at all?” I ask again, not understanding how the angels in the room don’t know about a theft that's so important.
“It wasn’t something we were told about,” Mason says. “I had no idea they took anything until your mother just mentioned it. But, God obviously wants it back, whatever it is. And, apparently, the responsibility of doing that will fall to your descendant. I’m not sure if we’ll ever be told what was taken.”
“It’s highly doubtful,” Uncle Malcolm grumbles. “Unless we just happen to run across the answer on our own. I don’t see our father telling us what it is considering the fact he hasn’t even mentioned it in all these years.”
Silence reigns supreme again in the room, and I think we’ve pretty much said what needs to be said for now.
“Well, since we’re all awake,” my dad says breaking the quiet. “Anyone want some breakfast?”
“I could really go for some chocolate croissants,” my mom says looking straight at Uncle Malcolm.
“Chocolate croissants?” Uncle Malcolm asks somewhat confused by the request. “But you and Tara only want them when one of you is pregnant.”
My mom smiles at my uncle. My dad, smiling for all he’s worth, comes up behind her and wraps his arms around her waist almost protectively.
“I guess you could say I got my first birthday presents early,” my mom says. “We're having twins.”
Uncle Malcolm shakes his head.
“And here I thought only Abby and Sebastian were breeding enough children for their own soccer team.” My Uncle Malcolm grins and tells my dad, “Congratulations, Brand. For an old man, I guess you still have it in you.”
I phase over to Uncle Malcolm and hit him lightly on the arm.
